Musings at 50

  I am so grateful for this bunny who came into my life when I needed to embrace doing less - so I sit in the pen my husband built for us to sit in while the bunny - we named Pip - hops around and wiggles his nose and sniffs our feet - he does the bunny binky and runs and we call that the bunny zoom. His fur so soft and knowing eyes - for something so young, the wisdom and yet he comes running when he hears our voices. He seems to mock the cat’s attempt to eat him and I could spend hours just watching him grow up to be a rabbit.

 I stared across a starry sky And then I began to cry As the tears fell I remembered that once before I'd watched a night sky With a friend A friend who no longer saw my face I remembered all of those times We sat to stare at the sky We'd talk of friends and boys Of our fears and joys We'd swear by the stars That our friendship would last Forever and ever Then one day It hit me No longer did we share time No longer did we spend the night with the stars No longer did we share our feelings and fears For what we had once Was now all gone.  - DB

I rise at dawn just before the sun comes up from behind a rise in the distance. I woke from the sound of the rooster - it’s call breaking the silence as the darkness begins to fade and welcoming the sounds of so many birds - I hear them, the Cardinal, the Blue Jay, the Redwinged Blackbird - starting the chorus as if the rooster were the conductor and signaled it was okay to begin this day’s song. I notice my husband has already risen, I hear the faint sound of the tractor starting back towards the house. I pull my hair into a bun and quickly dress - my slip, and stockings, my dress neatly pressed and starched and head to the kitchen where I slide the black cast iron out and plop a lump of lard into the pan and I light the stove all while grabbing my apron and putting it on.  Water is in the kettle, I quickly lift and replace it once I am certain it will hold enough water then walk to the fridge to grab a jug of cider left over from last year’s press. I will check the root cellar later

In my dreams... I fall from a tall place I am in the dark - so dark you cannot see only hear - bumps, scrapes, screeching, crying I am in a very bright space I see people I no longer associate with I listen to the sound of the surf I see those who I knew before they died I am not me I cower in a corner waiting for... I was a concert violinist I married a church minister I had 16 children - not all of them lived My teeth start to loosen and then they fall out I am covered by the small stuffed animals on my bed and they mean me harm My mother’s form in her blue housecoat has no eyes I am in the mountains, sitting on top of the world I am drinking a Dr Pepper and it isn’t too sweet I put my feet into a cool stream and feel the mud embrace my toes I am in a field of beautiful flowers and I am staring at the sky I am laying on a cloud - and floating I am standing on a ledge - and I cannot see the bottom I am listening to my brother play the piano - but I cannot find him I need to find a toi

In this one you are about 20 years old.  You are holding a large floppy hat, your hair is blown from the wind, you have a smile that lights up your face, it is summer, but not in the middle of summer, as the grass hasn’t started browning from days of relentless heat.  You are wearing shorts and a long sleeved shirt, so I am pretty sure you have just come from the field.  There is a dog standing beside you and the large tree that holds the rope swing is so small.  You can just make out the entrace to the root cellar/tornado shelter behind you and then in the background you can make out the larger barn and the smaller sheds - everything is painted in the brighter blue.  I often wonder who took the photograph.  I am guessing it was grandpa - he was always the photographer.  I also am curious if you are pregnant with mom in the picture or not - but your face is not lined with the ups and downs of life with its hardship, grief, adventure, pain, happiness, love, and strength. It is one of my

As the music fades - i am not familiar with the song - and it brings up so many questions, should I know it?  When was it written?  did it have a heyday? but as I was listening, my first thought was - I can hear the violin - I can hear the piano - I can hear the drumbeat, the beat, the time of the drum - those bits were so mesmerizing that I failed to hear the song lyrics - until I heard the words repeated 5 years - 5 years - 5 years...ah, to focus on the memories of the instruments or to focus on the lyrics of 5 years...so difficult to say which thing evokes more in terms of writing. So interesting - many times in a job interview someone will ask - where do you see yourself in 5 years? How to respond? Do you say, I hope to have your job? Do you say, I am living in the now, and in five years I will still be living in the now?  Is there an answer that is best and will get you a job? For my move to Olympia  - I said with a smile - I hope to be the state archivist or the deputy state arch

Looking for something to post and thinking about the fires here in the Pacific Northwest I decided on this essay. The folks in my writing group suggested the title. The writing prompt was a sensory experience - something was dropped in our hands...and then you write. Fire - feeling the smooth cardboard container touch my cupped palms - as soon as it hits my hands and my fingers curl around it I know what it is - I can almost smell the ingition of a match in my imagination and it takes everything that i have not to immediately pull the first match from the book and light it - but I am in a house that is not my own, and though I am sure I will not start a house fire - my logical mind takes hold that this really isn’t the time or place.  I have always had a fascination with fire - the way the flames lick and leap up from the tip of the match with that white/blue base into yellow, orange and sometimes a brief red tip. I just spent Winter Solstice trying to burn a piece of paper with what I

The door to my bedroom is slightly ajar and the evening light casts shadows on the room - I can make out the shape of my bed piled with stuffed animals and the rough rug on the floor.  The curtains on the windows rustle softly and the warm smell of a summer storm permiates the room. I can hear the low rumble of thunder mixed with the sounds of my brother practicing The Entertainer downstairs. The fan is whirring in the window directly to my left, pulling the warm air out of the room. There is a slight hum of the passing car as I decide whether or not I should turn on a light or just walk across the room to the window and close it - the room has three windows, but only one is wide open.  It was such a hot day only hours ago and I chill as I can feel the sharp temperature change - I was warned to hurry upstairs and close the window and turn off the fan - as there is a tornado warning.  I can tell the storm is coming - there are bright flashes in the sky lighting up my room and I pause ta

  So, I have returned from my time at the coast. It was both what I expected and a lot of unexpected. I fell into a pattern - wake about 8am - meditation, pull a card, make tea, writing, thinking about what I will do for the day, lots of reading, lots of writing, and in bed by 9:30pm.  I arrived on Tuesday September 8th - waking and deciding that the day would go slow - packing slowly - deciding what I want to take with me. Trying to keep it simple. So, after eating an amazing smoked trout and kale salad - I hit the road. It was about 1pm. My plan was to check in about 5pm. I drove - and listed to Big Magic by Liz Gilbert. I have listened to this book twice and read it once. Each time I get something different from it - I think my biggest take away was to be with my fear - befriend my fear. She has this amazing description of creativity/fear being conjoined twins...so you cannot have one without the other. She writes a letter to fear about going on a road trip - and while fear is welco

The first time I thought about doing a personal retreat I thought it sounded extravagant, self-indulgent, and something people do because they weren't busy enough in their lives. Now, at 50, I find myself needing some time to regroup - my lifestyle, my patterns, the way I walk through life is not serving me - in fact, I believe it is killing me. I know that for some of you, if you know me and you are reading this - your first thought is, don't be so melodramatic Tracy. If you don't know me - then you may be thinking what is killing you? Where do I begin? I spend a lot of time in my head - thinking about the past and the future. I feel like I am always anxious and fearful - trying to anticipate what is next, because of this my body feels like it is always in fight/flight/freeze/submit. My doctor said - while you are healthy Tracy (by the numbers - my cholesterol, my heart rate, etc) - this overactive adrenal situation will cause a heart attack. I cannot seem to shut it off.

Autumn - 9/26/2018 Giant Harvest Moon Showing in the morning sky Leaves in yellow, brown Red, green fading, and orange Crackle Snap Dying Cold mornings Warm days Harvest Squash, pumpkins Spices Cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg Warm apple crisp Cold vanilla ice cream Hot apple cider Crunch crunch Drifting leaves Floating through the sky Landing in a pool Reflections of color Mirror like surface  Blue sky Grey sky The rain Drip Drip Dripping Lazy and slow cold and wet Layers of clothes sweaters sweatshirts football games popcorn hot chocolate Soup and Stew Crockpot - simmering low Corn Beans Root Vegetables Crisp air Chilled Cozy blankets that smell of the first  night of the furnace Shorter days Turning inward Making ready to  Sleep To Dream What will come in Winter What will come in Spring For now we let go We shed We release Exhale and see breath low morning fog damp grass green is returning Squirrels scamper to  Collect nuts and treats birds songs have faded Sun is still a little bright

It seems that I am always doing this in one way or another. I set intentions, goals, aspirations or the like and then one week in - usually one week sometimes more, I just, fade off. Not really sure what the motivation is for dropping the goal or intention. Sometimes I think life happens and others I think I start feeling like I HAVE TO - which is something I struggle with all of the time. Often these goals, intentions, rituals, practices are things that I love to do, I feel like the me I want to be wants to do, or sometimes it is something I feel would make me feel better in the long run though I have no real passion for it. I could make a list of things that I think I would like to be the person who does - here is just some of those things  - Wake early  - Slow morning start  - Meditation daily - 20 minutes  - Yoga daily - 20 minutes  - Time for quiet reflection - morning coffee or tea - stare into the back yard - 10 minutes  - Floss daily - AM AND PM  - Brush daily - AM and PM  - Wa